For ACF Property Management, Inc.
Truth told, most of our mail is pesky junk.
“Vote for me,” “Buy this,” “For god’s sake, send cash.”
The bills, of course, can instigate a funk,
And greeting cards a lush amusing splash.
But, dammit, mail is sometimes just plain bane,
And generates the baleful shout “gevalt”
(A term of art that means “excessive pain”),
And sends serenity into default.
Our real estate investment manager
Sent one thin missive just the other day.
“Perhaps a cushy offer,” I inferred—
Alas, his letter went the other way!
The best of all our holdings just collapsed—
Our rental income off eighteen percent!
A letter that announces news so bent,
Should bear a warning symbol colored black!
(9/18/12)
Though I’ve never liked his politics, Don,
Down at the paddle tennis courts, is not
The worst of men. The dogs adore him, conned
By biscuit treats he issues on the spot!
He hires hard-times Ruben to partner
Him for weekend doubles games—the Ruben
Who “stays” (term of art for the homeless corps)
Under a bush beneath a freeway span.
Ruben, though destitute, plays tennis well,
And that, of course, balloons Don’s spirits high.
It’s nice to win, enjoy that prideful swell
And, at the same time, help this needy guy.
And when the game is done, Don, graciously,
Invites his partner to his gleaming car—
Drives Rube back “home” in his trim Ferrari,
To resume his hopeless, rough safari.
(9/15/12)
For the love of god
A young Sunni lad
Destroys himself
In the market place,
Killing, maiming
Scores of infidels.
One question quivers—
Did he do good or evil?
(9/7/12)
In 2011, gunmen killed 9,369 people in the United States
Our precious, blessed Bill of Rights saves us
From those grim nuts who want to snatch away our guns.
Year after year they stir their pious fuss,
Their noxious nonsense aimed to end our fun.
We keep explaining: if we all were armed
Crime rates would swiftly shrink, reduced by fear—
We’d save ourselves from ugly violent harm.
Those wimped-out fools, they just refuse to hear.
Sometimes, of course, a gunman will go bad—
Then headlines scream, and stupid blather blows.
The world’s not clean, anomalies are sad,
But we will never cave before our foes.
We’ll keep our guns, maintain our righteous path—
How else can we express our bitter wrath?
(8/29/12)
Our Heather’s gone to Texas now,
Luisa’s students strain her soul,
Denise attends island luaus,
Nat’lie explores the world’s vast bowl
Our Kim’s promoting charities,
And Gillian’s busy learning law;
While Lisa works the dark, dank, docks,
Patricia works so hard she’s sore.
That furry-biked East-Asian lass
Has disappeared—her muscles flawed.
Andrea’s got a job, alas!
They’re seldom here, those girls that awed.
We miss their skin, their shapely shorts—
Excitement’s drained down at the courts.
(8/24/12)
The house is paid for,
And pension flow secure.
The plumbing’s fixed.
The garden’s blooms in view.
Car oil changed.
Tax payments sent.
A pile of books await—
There’s nothing left to do.
(8/16/12)
